


gave you my heart

by dhils



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, merry chrysler:)!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhils/pseuds/dhils
Summary: Nico kisses him behind the Christmas tree display.





	gave you my heart

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on the bus bc it was snowing and i was in a Mood! obvious title is obvious, winter is cold, i love these two

“Yeah, that’s it, _fuck_ ,” Nolan groans out, tipping his head back and trying to scrabble for something to hold onto. The sheets are untucked from the edges of the bed, so it’s not entirely helpful to keep holding onto them, especially not with the way Nico’s fucking into him, but there’s not much else he can do.

He feels like he’s on fire, especially with the bites littering across his neck, brushes of teeth that make his skin buzz. He can’t help that feeling of _home_ that curls up in the bottom of his stomach at all of it. He might be in New Jersey, but being with Nico has never felt out of place. 

”You close?” Nico asks against his jaw, words swirling up to his ear. It makes Nolan shiver, as if he hadn’t already been trembling. As if the bed wasn’t already rocking beneath them with every thrust from Nico.

“Please,” Nolan gasps, finding it hard to get anything out anymore. It’s especially hard to try and speak when he’s been working himself up to this forever, and the breath leaving his lungs gets caught in his throat. 

“Saying please now?” Nico asks him. Despite the way he’s working Nolan with his hand, and just the sheer force he’s putting into all of this, his voice makes it out surprisingly clearly. With this small tinge of arrogance licking at the edges. “I remember you being set on doing anything _but_ that.” 

Nolan’s head is spinning, and there’s this need to get off crawling underneath his nerves, eating away at his rationality. Normally, he could get away with a chirp, maybe, but it’s getting hard just to look at Nico without feeling his ears burn. “I—don’t stop,” he begs, feeling his toes curl when Nico tightens his grip.

“Why the _fuck_ would I stop,” Nico says, and he’s got this cocksure grin hanging from his lips. There’s a bead of sweat threatening to come loose at his hairline. It’s all so much.

“Oh my god,” Nolan manages, and it’s split evenly between ecstasy and exasperation. He arches his back, trying to get closer, because he can feel himself standing dangerously at the edge.

The last thing he feels before the world around him goes white is Nico’s chest against his own. 

He bites the skin between Nico’s neck and shoulder as he comes, and wonders if it’ll leave a mark. With the way Nico reacts, this little grunt in his ear, he must’ve felt _something_ , and if it was enough—it might just stick around for Nolan to admire later on. 

It’s not long after that that Nolan processes Nico’s already came, because he only comes down from his high _after_ Nico pulls away and walks off to trash the condom. Nolan does get a chance to catch a glimpse of Nico’s ass on his way to the bathroom, which is enough to keep him busy until he gets back.

Nolan whistles once Nico‘s in the bedroom again. His hair’s a gorgeous mess and red splotches are dotting his chest and face. It’s a good look on him, and Nolan feels this small swell of victory over seeing someone other than himself entirely flushed. 

“C’mere,” he says, making grabby hands for Nico, and Nico rolls his eyes with a smile.

 

 

It’s barely 10 AM when they finally get out of bed, which is way too early to wake up on Christmas Eve. Especially when he’s still trying to remember how to get his legs to work after being stuck under Nico all night.

Nolan slides on a pair of boxers the second he rolls out of bed, because _somebody_ forgot to shut the curtains last night. He tries to send a glare Nico’s way, but it’s hard to glare at someone when they look that peaceful sleeping. Especially when that someone is his boyfriend, tucked under fluffy bed sheets. 

It’s when Nolan gets off the bed that Nico finally blinks his eyes open, looking tired.

“Why’re you up,” Nico whines, trying to sit up. Nolan half-expects him to lose his balance and roll off the bed. “Breakfast is overrated.” 

“Honestly,” Nolan agrees, jerking the curtains wider open. There’s a steady flurry of snow making its way to the ground, just barely illuminated by the sun’s light. Which—it’s hidden behind a grey blanket of clouds, but Nolan still has trouble looking out at the stark white without wincing. “But I’m still taking you out, get up.” 

Nico blows out a breath, blindly patting the floor next to his bed before landing on a pair of boxers. “Why,” he asks, tugging them on.

“Because, like,” he makes his gesture with his hand, unsure what he’s going for. Nico, whose mind if presumably working at the pace of a sloth, blinks at him. “I love you?” 

He snorts. “Very convincing. You wanna try that again?” 

Nolan does not try again, he’s fully confident in himself. But he still has to wrestle Nico out of bed, laughing into his neck.

 

 

Nico taps a bunch of buttons on his car’s display before he finally connects to the bluetooth, and the first song he puts on is Holly Jolly Christmas. Nolan kind of deserves that, but it’s a little hard to be mad once Nico starts obnoxiously singing along. 

It’s something Nolan’s had to work up to, Nico being comfortable enough around him to do stupid shit like this. Nico’s quieter around others. Nolan’s even seen him fold in a little on himself around teammates on the bench, letting them cheer him on after a goal while he passes them no more than a dismissive smile. It’s a privilege, getting to see the side of Nico that doesn’t hesitate to tell him to _eat ass_ or sing along to Christmas carols. 

Nolan smiles, and leans over to plant a kiss on his cheek, getting a bout of laughter out of him. 

“I don’t get why you never went into the music industry,” Nolan says, tapping the steering wheel as they wait for the light to turn green.

“I mean, I wouldn’t wanna make anyone jealous,” Nico tells him with a shrug. His smile reaches his eyes in a way that makes them sparkle. “What, would you want me to stand under your balcony and serenade you?” 

Nolan scoffs. “Uh, _yes_ , I’d marry you on the spot.” 

“I’d probably marry me, too,” Nico says, and then points at his sleeve. “This jacket? 99% husband material, 1% polyester. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Nolan doesn’t.

 

 

The thing about New Jersey is that when it snows, people seem to forget how to drive. Interestingly enough. They find themselves caught in an early morning jam a few blocks away from the restaurant they’re headed to, and although Nolan wants to complain about it, Nico leans over and presses his cheek against his shoulder blade.

The snow is coming down slower now, and although Nolan wants to be unimpressed by its presence, there’s a lot of beauty in all of this. Most of it is right next to him, so admiring the world becomes easier for him. 

Nico’s got Carol of the Bells playing, because he’s a sap _or_ he just really wants to get Nolan in the Christmas mood, but all in all, it’s good. 

He wishes they could have this everyday, just spending time with each other in companionable silence. But there’s not much they can do when they live an hour apart, split by a rivalry he wishes would just _go away_. 

 

 

Nico makes a face at Nolan when he drags him down to the various shops lining the block after they eat brunch. All of them are done up with over the top decorations, string lights, and cheesy figurines. 

He doesn’t really have any last minute shopping to do, not with Nico’s gift hidden in the bottom of his duffle bag, but it’s still a riot to get Nico into the ugly sweater section of a store that smells like cinnamon and gingerbread. 

“You hate me,” Nico says accusingly as Nolan passes him a sweater with a candy cane stitched into the front. The text next to it reads _it’s not gonna lick itself!_ and just watching the way Nico’s expression falls makes Nolan laugh a little louder than he probably should. 

“I’m just saying,” he starts after he finished wheezing, “it suits you.” 

“I’ll show you, _it suits you_.” Nico leafs through the rack of sweaters before he pulls one out with a Christmas tree. At first glance, it looks harmless. The patterns adorning the arms are nice, but right above the shining tree, the sweater reads _it’s lit_ and Nolan feels himself physically cringe. 

“You won’t buy that,” Nolan says, but he’s afraid of testing him. “You won’t spend actual money on that shit, don’t try it.”

“That’s what you think. You don’t want a gift from the heart?” And even though Nico’s technically ripping at him, the frown on his face looks frighteningly convincing.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You think so?”

They walk out of the shop with a festively coloured bag holding two of the worst sweaters Nolan thinks he’s ever laid his eyes on. But Nico smiles at him once they step out into the cold, his dimples flashing, and Nolan has a hard time regretting his decision.

Especially when there’s an entire family of snowflakes caught in his hair, making him look soft and so fucking perfect. Nolan sighs happily, watching his breath come out in coils of white, and puts an arm around him.

 

 

They stop by a few other shops where Nico buys a make-it-yourself gingerbread house, and Nolan gives in to a little hockey themed ornament.

Nico kisses him behind the Christmas tree display. He feels the faintest pinch of peppermint roll onto his tongue from the sample Nico had been so quick to try, and Nolan chases it. 

Nobody recognizes them, or at least, Nolan doesn’t think they do. Not until they’re heading back to their car and they see a little girl gaping at them. She’s about four feet tall, with a scarf that dangles down to her knees shielding her face from the downpour of snow.

All Nolan can see is her eyes, wide and disbelieving, and he wonders if she’s putting things together in her head. If she’s old enough to know what it means that he’s got his fingers intertwined with Nico’s. 

She doesn’t approach them, but Nolan still manages to pass her a friendly smile before she bolts off in the opposite direction.

 

 

Nico doesn’t have a fireplace, but he _does_ have scented candles. Ones that he lights once the evening knocks on their door, splashing the world with hazy blues and purples. His place smells like cookies, and the heater is kicked up enough to keep Nolan from feeling like he might freeze to death. 

Nico’s got his head resting in his lap while they watch Christmas movies on Netflix. Nolan always forgets how much better American Netflix is compared to its Canadian counterpart, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the movies are any less cheesier. Nolan tries not to mention how stupid the plot of the movie that they’ve got on is, and busies himself with playing with Nico’s hair instead. 

It leads to Nico himself getting distracted, pressing into his fingertips and making content little noises as he chews on his bottom lip. 

Nolan’s not really expecting it when Nico shifts a little, getting on his knees on the couch, and he gives Nolan this look that he isn’t really sure he’s deciphering properly. But then there’s a hand on his stomach, and Nico’s leaning in to kiss the hinge of jaw while he works his fingers a little lower. 

“If you wanted to pull my hair, you just had to ask,” Nico whispers, and Nolan barely processes the hand that slips beneath the waistband of his sweats before it’s wrapped around his dick.

That’s the best part of sweatpants, he guesses, the easy access. 

“I wasn’t trying anything,” Nolan insists, but he’s definitely not complaining, especially not with the easy strokes Nico’s giving him. He feels his lungs squeeze. The movie suddenly feels like the last of his worries.

“Want me to stop, then?” Nico asks him, and Nolan feels a sigh leave his throat. 

“I don’t mind,” he says cheekily, and Nico passes him a sleazy smile. 

Nolan buries his fingers in Nico’s hair once he dips a little further down, wrapping the head of his dick in the warmth of his lips. Everytime Nolan pulls his hair, just lightly enough to guide him, it gets a small noise out of Nico. It’s just so right.

They’ve done this enough that Nico knows all the tricks to get Nolan at his mercy, and he doesn’t wait to put any of them to use. It might be part of the reason Nolan can’t help his hips twitching up into his mouth. The way Nico hollows out his cheeks so the space for Nolan to fuck up into becomes smaller, or how he sucks him off enthusiastically enough for Nolan to forget where he is.

And when he comes, Nico swallows, happily telling him, “can’t get anything on the couch.” 

 

 

When the clock hits 10, Nico decides it’s time for hot chocolate through a series of, in retrospect, terribly delivered hints. Like sprawling across him and whining about being thirsty, which Nolan could have taken as a hint for literally _anything_ else.

While Nolan’s filing the brink of his cup with whipped cream, Nico nudges him and tips his head back like he’s trying to catch snowflakes. Nolan just laughs and sprays some onto his tongue. 

“I’d never do it during the actual season,” Nico says, after swallowing, “but this stuff is so _good_.”

“You’re acting like you’ve never had whipped cream before,” Nolan tells him and gets a small smile from Nico.

“I’m going all out. Wait.” Nico opens the door to his pantry and files around before returning with a small case of sprinkles. “Got these, too. Interested?”

Nolan leans in to kiss his cheek and take the sprinkles. “God, I love you.”

“I love you more.” He curls his hand around the back of his neck and leans in to steal another kiss. And their hot chocolate is probably getting cold, but this might just be ten times sweeter anyways.

 

 

Nolan wakes up on Christmas morning with a mistletoe hanging above his head. It’s not taped onto anything, instead held up by Nico’s fingers, and he smiles st him immediately. 

“You’re an idiot,” Nolan says, and blindly pulls Nico in for a kiss, hearing nothing but the gleeful noise he lets out against his lips.

“You should see the one in my pants,” Nico says against his lips, and Nolan can’t help but laugh, getting Nico to join him only moments later.

“You didn’t.”

“I totally could’ve,” Nico insists. “It would be romantic.” 

Nolan flips him over on the bed, just so he’s the one hovering on top of him now. “No, it wouldn’t. But.” He presses a kiss to Nico’s chest, another one over the bite mark between his shoulder and his neck. “I could give you a show anyways.”

Nico smiles at him, propping up onto his elbows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nolan says, getting between him legs. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

 

 

“Merry Christmas,” Nico cheers, shoving a carefully wrapped box into his hands. 

Nolan turns it over, looking at the perfect edges and crisp orange ribbon to top it all off. “Did Hallsy wrap this?”

“What— _no_ ,” Nico says quickly, crossing his arms. Nolan raises his brows at him, and he lets out a, “maybe. You have no proof.”

Nolan laughs. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Just open it,” Nico says impatiently. He looks excited, and Nolan isn’t sure whether he should be afraid or flattered. It’s not gonna be, like, a spring trap. So he has nothing to worry about. Hopefully. 

“Fine, fine,” he says, and carefully rips the wrapping paper open, watching a white box appear underneath. Nico hooks his chin over his shoulder, kissing his neck as he pulls off the top.

It’s a Supreme shoulder bag underneath, the brand name stitched into a clean black fabric. And Nolan has to take a moment to gape at it before turning around to look Nico in the eyes. “You fucking— _fuck_.” 

“Right? Do you like it?” He asks giddily, practically bouncing from heel to toe in excitement.

“I love it,” he says. “Nico, oh my god, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“Only the best for my boy.” Nico leans in to kiss him, and Nolan smiles into it. He feels something warm swirling in his chest, and he isn’t sure how the fuck he deserves any of this. 

“Wait,” Nolan says quickly, and heads for his duffle bag to grab Nico’s gift out of it. “Mine’s not at great as yours, but I mean.” 

“You know, you being here is the only gift I need,” Nico tells him sweetly, but Nolan still hands him the box he’d wrapped up a week ago, and it fits practically perfectly in his hands. 

“Shut up,” Nolan says fondly, and Nico fucking _giggles_ because he’s goddamn precious. 

Nolan wishes he could memorize the way Nico’s face lights up when he unwraps the box, because—it’s just a polaroid camera. Nolan still remembers the trauma of going into Urban fucking Outfitters to pick one up, but Nico looks ecstatic. He’s been asking for one for as long as Nolan can remember, and there’s this feeling of satisfaction in Nolan’s stomach that _flutters_ when Nico meets his gaze. 

“I swear to god,” Nico says, and his voice is bubbly. “You were saying this isn’t as good as mine? Are you _okay_?” He clutches the box to his chest and looks like he might burst if he doesn’t scream or something. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Nolan says casually, and he can feel the grin that spreads his face when Nico blurts out, “I _love_ it, dipshit.”

 

 

When they’re curled up on the couch, practically falling asleep against each other under a quilted blanket, Nolan finds it hard to keep from reaching out and holding onto Nico’s hand.

It’s like this reminder that he has this, that he gets to have _him_. Even if it’s only for short bursts at a time, it’s not the end of the world. Because Nico’s still apart of his life. He’s still apart of him. And that? It’s everything.


End file.
